


Dreams

by stilesstilinskixeveryone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Dream Sex, Implied/Referenced Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nogitsune, POV Peter Hale, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Peter-centric, Pining, Pining Peter Hale, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Smut, Stiles is Legal, Wet Dream, again if you can call it that, dubcon/noncon because Stiles is possessed, i guess??, if you can call it that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-31 07:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13970211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilinskixeveryone/pseuds/stilesstilinskixeveryone
Summary: Peter starts to have dreams, not about the fire, not about the future, but about him.





	1. Chapter 1

A mouth sucked at his neck and he groaned out a name his ears couldn't quite comprehend in the state he was in. His hands gripped at the hips above him, encouraging them to rut against his own. His back arched as the mouth made its way down his collarbone, leaving wet bruises behind. 

Everything was hazy with lust, or at least he assumed it was lust. The crotch rubbing against his own made it impossibly hard to think and with that devilish mouth working wonders on his body he honestly didn't know who was currently on top of him. He must've been saying someone's name though. 

The person in question ran a tongue back up the way it had come, across the bruises that should've healed by now but hadn't. Of course, the tongue in question was exploring his mouth now and any thought of the bruises quickly faded away. 

He felt hands at his jeans, then he didn't feel his jeans at all, and there were hands on him. God, those long fingers were the most brilliant things he'd ever known. 

He felt like a fucking teenager as he reached his climax in moments, but he could hardly complain. It was absolutely the best he'd ever felt, and he had a lot to compare it to.

Slowly, the world came back into focus. Fuzzy edges hardened and he took in his surroundings, even as he was blissed out. He saw the books and the bedside table, the smell of the pillows, that confirmed that he was in his own room. He tilted his head and, finally, was able to put a face and name to the devil in his bed.

Then he woke up.

Peter was drenched in sweat and something that was decidedly not sweat, and groaned at the mess. He huffed, dramatic even while alone, and grabbed the bedsheets. He left the room to throw them into the wash, grumbling the whole way.

Probably the best night he'd ever had and it was a wet dream about Stiles Stilinski, the nineteen year old human with ADHD and too much snark for his own good. 

He shoved his sheets into the washing machine before deciding to take a nice, cold shower. He almost wanted to go back to sleep, hoping to experience the dream again, but decided that that wasn't for the best.

He needed a clear head for when he went to the pack dinner that night. 

~~~~~

Peter arrived at Derek's loft earlier than the set time, not for any particular reason other than boredom. He smelled the food before he smelled Stiles as he wandered over to the kitchen. His wolf howled at the sight of Stiles cooking, providing, and he smiled softly. He quickly switched to a smirk as Stiles turned around to look at him.

"Bored of pizza?" he asked the human.

"Yes. We always have pizza, it's unhealthy. I also know that both Derek and Isaac can't cook and they only ever get takeout," Stiles explained, annoyance in his tone directed towards the idea of takeout every night.

That was definitely the right answer for Peter's wolf.

"I hope you know how to cook," Stiles spoke absentmindedly, his focus on the large amount of food he was making.

"If I say 'I don't' does that mean you'll cook for me?" Peter replied with a question, a wide smirk on his face as he took a step towards the boy.

"It might mean we have more pack dinners."

"As long as I get to keep seeing you cooking in that cute, little apron I'm happy."

"Peter, stop harassing Stiles," Derek butted in before the human could reply.

Peter sighed but reluctantly went to sit down at the table with cutlery that had been set out by, according to his nose, Derek.

"You got Derek to set the table?" Peter asked, surprise heavy in his tone and the rise of his eyebrows. 

Stiles simply smirked and winked in reply.

~~~~~

Peter honestly wasn't sure whether he'd prefer another dream about Stiles or not. The evening had been pretty successful as he had only been reminded of the dream a few times, generally whenever Stiles licked his lips or bumped into him. 'A few times' was probably rounding down.

Even as Peter lay down in his bed, terribly conflicted about the pros and cons of the dream, he found his eyelids were growing heavier and heavier by the second. 

As soon as his eyes were closed, he was walking through his front door. 

"Peter, I'm making dinner," Stiles called from the kitchen.

Peter grinned at the thought and made his way to the kitchen, basking in the smell of Stiles' cooking. He turned the corner and almost fell flat on his ass at the sight in front of him. 

Standing in his kitchen was Stiles, back facing him, in the apron from the pack dinner. Only the apron. His entire back was on show and, God, was it a delicious sight.

He decided then that he really loved these dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

The dreams had been happening close to every day for the past two weeks. Peter's bed sheets could hardly keep up. Every dream was different, but each was just as good, as perfect, as devilishly sexy as the last. 

He had been incredibly distracted during any pack meetings, his mind constantly straying to the dreams. He was not, however, distracted enough to miss how different Stiles was acting, how he wasn't himself. His fidgeting seemed purposeful but sporadic at the same time, as if sometimes he suddenly remembered it was one of his well known characteristics. His bursts of word vomit were less interesting and more unnecessary, unlike the usual monologuing that always had a point and always captured Peter's attention.

It was a pale imitation of the real Stiles.

He could say that the worst part was that he was the only one that seemed to notice, but then he'd be lying. In all honesty, the worst part in his eyes was that some fucker had decided to take Stiles away from him and thought they'd get away with it.

The second worst part was that if whatever the creature was had been any better at acting like Stiles, and if Peter was just a little bit more distracted by the dreams, he might not have noticed anything. He was almost entirely sure that the creature was also responsible for his dreams. 

~~~~~

Peter snuck in through Stiles' bedroom window and laid himself down on the boy's bed. He had heard before he had even gotten onto the street that neither Stiles nor his father were home, and so he decided to laze about in the room. No harm in scenting the boy's bed, and he certainly couldn't stop himself from smelling the sex that rested in the room. 

He was a little concerned about having a dream as he lay there, but he was willing to risk it.

After a heavenly ten minutes, he heard Stiles' jeep approach the house at a sputtering pace. He grinned, but made no move to get up.

He followed the thing inhabiting Stiles' body by ear. It made its way up the stairs at a casual speed, no rush to get anywhere specific. Almost silently, it opened the door and flicked on the light, freezing in its movements as it locked onto Peter.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" it asked, a tad too hesitant for Stiles.

"I've come to check up on you, darling," Peter purred, an almost feral grin on his lips, human teeth peaking out.

"Well, I'm fine, so I guess you can leave," it shrugged.

Peter scoffed and sat up, "I'd hardly call being possessed 'fine'."

A smirk slid onto Stiles' lips, a darkness in his eyes that changed the expression from its usual mischievousness to something more dangerous. "Oh, so you noticed, did you?"

"You didn't exactly give an oscar worthy performance. I admit that it took a little longer to notice than I'm comfortable with, but I was rather distracted." Peter didn't mind admitting to his mistake. It knew what he was talking about.

It moved closer, the smirk on Stiles' face turning into something more sultry as it spoke, "Tell me, how much did you enjoy those dreams? Did they get you sweaty and hard? Did you ever cum?" 

Peter's reaction to hearing those words come out of Stiles' mouth did nothing but confirm the creature's questions.

Its grin widened and it took another step closer. Peter hadn't noticed how close they were until their knees were touching and Stiles' body was towering over the top of him.

"Who are you?" he asked, forcing away any thoughts about their closeness or the thing's previous words.

"Such a boring question," it drawled out, "Wouldn't you rather find out everything I could do to you?" Stiles' body had his knees on either side of Peter's hips within the second, hands on his chest, crotch on crotch. 

Peter moaned, his hands flying up to grip at Stiles' hips before he could even think, and his eyes flashed an electric blue. 

"See? Isn't this more fun?" It grinded down on him to punctuate the question. 

Peter bit back his groan this time. He collected himself as best as he could before replying, "I think I'd prefer to know what Stiles would do to me."

"Oh, you already know, Peter." The thing pushed down on Peter's chest and he let it, allowed it to box him in on the bed.

He simply raised an eyebrow in response.

"The dreams, they're all his fantasies, dreams he's already had, things he so _desperately wants_ ," the words were whispered into his ear and, God, he didn't know how he was still thinking properly. It bit down on his neck and grinded down on him again, and suddenly he was thrown into the first dream he had. 

"He wants you so bad," the thing continued, "I don't know if I could even count the amount of times he's jacked off in here, thinking about you. I'm sure you can smell it." 

Peter grabbed hold of Stiles' body and flipped them, a hand holding the boy's hand stogether above his head, the other hand gripped tight on his hip. "If he wants me so bad then how about you get the fuck out of him so we can enjoy it." The words were growled into Stiles' neck, his teeth and tongue grazing the boy's throat in the way he'd hoped to do for so long. He wished it were under better circumstances. 

"No can do, Peter. I've got plans. How I'd wish to fuck you senseless with Stiles screaming, trapped in his own head, but my plans are just a bit more interesting. I'll be sure to make time for you, though."

At that, the thing in Stiles' body flipped them over again, slipped out of Peter's grip and disappeared from the room. 

Peter didn't move from the bed for a long time, his breathing ragged, his pulse racing and his focus concentrated on not jacking off in Stiles' room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure anyone who read the first chapter before I updated the tags was not expecting this, so I'm sorry. But I'm also not sorry because I just started reading Nogitsune fics and I'm fucking hooked and this story was the perfect set up for what I had in mind!


	3. Chapter 3

"What's happening?" Peter asked as he wandered into the loft.

Everyone was surrounding a table, books and printed sheets spread out. It was the kind of messy neatness that only Stiles could produce and his eyes flickered towards the young man. A grin, hidden from the view of the others, flashed across the human's face and Peter was suddenly all too aware of what was happening.

"Oni demons have been trying to find a void kitsune, also known as a nogitsune. Kira's mother is the one that called them here, she's a kitsune too," Derek explained, only glancing at Peter.

"Right," Peter nodded. 

So, Stiles was possessed by a nogitsune. He didn't mention this to the pack, of course, wouldn't mention it until he knew how to defeat one. 

He sent a small, unnoticeable glare towards the Nogitsune. 

"The Oni will probably attack you soon. Just let them do their job and it'll work out fine, they won't hurt you," Derek said once Peter had joined them.

Peter pressed a finger to the back of his ear, pushing it to show off the mark on his skin, "They showed up last night, I was planning to tell you all about it today."

"Good to know you're you, though I doubt the Nogitsune would make much difference with your already murderous tendencies," the Nogitsune spoke up, a cheeky grin on Stiles' face.

Peter simply sent a wink its way. 

Throughout the meeting, the Nogitsune made jabs at Peter, remarks not unlike the ones that Stiles would make. However, the comments (such as, "Oh, the Nogitsune would love you, Peter," when the pack found out that it fed on chaos, strife and pain) held hidden words that only those three, only Peter, the Nogitsune and Stiles, would ever understand. 

Peter tried his best to reply with his usual quips, tried to forget that he wasn't really talking to Stiles, but he knew his responses lacked their usual vibrancy and, dare he say it, creepiness. Not that anyone really noticed. How could they possibly notice Peter acting odd if they hadn't noticed Stiles was different?

Peter tried to ignore everyone by doing his own research during the meeting. He, of course, looked at everything that the Nogitsune had spread out, looking for any clues that the creature might have given them, but knew not to trust anything that he read. Cross referencing with his own sources was the best plan he had, and so was glad the pack meeting ended as he finished reading the final sheet.

He was the first to leave the loft, but apparently not the first to arrive at his apartment. He could faintly smell Stiles in the parking lot and braced himself for what was to come.

He honestly had no idea what was to come, so preparing for any and all things he could think of was what he decided on as he waited in the elevator. 

It took agonizingly long to reach his floor, surrounded by Stiles' scent. 

The first thing he noticed when he stepped into his apartment was the sharp and stinging scent of arousal and desire, the thin smell of curiosity just underneath. The second thing he noticed was a pair of shoes and socks thrown haphazardly onto his living room floor. 

He grimaced at the implications, noticing Stiles' shirt tossed onto the back of his couch next. He made his way down his own hallway, stepping over the crumpled pile of jeans. Finally, he reached his bedroom door, both anger and arousal spiking at the pair of underwear hanging from the doorknob. He chucked it to the side, using every ounce of self control he had to just grab it by the waistband and not do anything else.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself (which didn't work as he just inhaled more arousal), he opened the door. 

Pale, uncovered skin laid out bare; constellations of dark brown on display, more than he had ever seen; a happy trail of hair vanishing beneath Peter's deep red blanket, though the silk did nothing to hide just how aroused the body in front of him was.

His eyes flashed a bright blue, both a warning and a reaction.

"Why are you here?" he growled out, not daring to take a step closer.

"This is a peace offering," it replied, tone calm and casual.

"I decline. Get out of Stiles' body."

"Come on, Peter, just have a little taste test." The Nogitsune's grin was absolutely wicked as it stood up, the sheet falling from Stiles' waist.

Peter kept his glare firmly focused on amber eyes, even as it walked towards him. With a swish of its hand, the door behind him closed shut and Peter was backed up against it before he could blink.

"The first two minutes are free of charge, no consequences and no contracts, and you can do a hell of a lot in two minutes," the Nogitsune spoke with a lecherous voice as hands trailed down the werewolf's body.

"I don't need a _taste test_ , my answer will always be 'no' until Stiles is back to the way he should be." He managed to get his hands between them, but shoving did no good as the Nogitsune seemed to be a lot stronger than Stiles was.

"Oh, I'm sorry but the two minutes aren't for you, it's for me."

That was the only warning he got before it had lips on him, tongue exploring his mouth as hands explored his body. He tried his best not to react, only using his hands to try to push away, keeping the rest of his body as still as possible. 

His shirt was gone in twenty seconds and hands were quickly at his jeans before another ten were up. He started to freak out, just the tiniest bit, and felt his claws coming out when the Nogitsune smiled into the kiss. His teeth sharpened to fangs and a thought was pulled to the front of his mind.

Before the Nogitsune could move onto his neck, he sunk his teeth into the tongue stuck in his mouth.

The Nogitsune recoiled out of surprise, if the raised eyebrows were anything to go by, attack forgotten for the moment. A laugh bubbled out of Stiles' bruised lips and it dipped its head to rest on Peter's shoulder, shoulders shaking minutely. The moment was so _not sexual_ that the werewolf almost forgot the body in front of him was naked and his fangs and claws receded.

Almost forgot until the body pressed in closer. The same bruised lips that had just been laughing pulled themselves up to Peter's ear, hot breath a stark contrast to the cold nose nudging at his skin.

"I feed off of pain, Peter. Do you really think that did anything other than get me off?" A tongue flicked out, licking at the skin behind his ear. "Here," it spoke, backing off to grab one of Peter's hands, "claws out," it clenched his wrist in a tight grip, claws popping out against his will. 

It trailed his hand down Stiles' body, across a pale torso, passed curling hairs, and onto a fleshy thigh. It yanked at his wrist, claws digging into flesh. Deep red spilled out from underneath and Peter expected a pained yelp, but instead received a throaty moan that seemed to claw at his soul.

He yanked his claws out; his other hand shoved Stiles' body away from him, shoved away the Nogitsune, and roared, "Get the fuck _out_!"

_Out of my room._

_Out of my head._

_Out of his body._

The Nogitsune huffed, rolled its eyes, and straightened up. "Fine, fine, if you're really gonna be pissy about this then I'll leave," it spoke as if having to leave was worse than staying, as if it couldn't simply shut him up, as if Peter actually had a say in the matter. 

Peter stepped out of the way as it made its way to the door. It swung the door open and stepped passed the frame as it spoke, "I'll be coming back soon. When I do, I'm not gonna stop until you're so wrecked that even werewolf healing won't stop you from limping for the rest of the week."

With that, the door slammed shut. 

Peter could hear it picking up Stiles' clothes, pulling them on without a word. It wasn't until the Nogitsune was out of the building did Peter sink to his knees. His breathing was uneven, his heart beat a mile a minute, his wolf went wild with rage. 

The blood coating his fingers felt like it was burning hotter and brighter than the Hale fire, but it still took him several minutes to rise from his feet. With staggering steps, he left his room, stumbling his way to the bathroom across the hall. 

He stepped onto something other than wood and almost didn't notice. Glancing down at what it was, he realised the Nogitsune had left something behind.

Stiles' underwear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really remember what the Nogitsune can and can't do so, like, sorry if it can't close doors without touching them. 
> 
> Writing smut is really weird (although this smut isn't very smutty) but ya know, you gotta do what you gotta do.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm 99% sure this is my first time writing any kinda smut (my memory is real bad) so it's not good at all. I probably won't write smut that often but holy shit I just had to write Peter having a wet dream about Stiles!
> 
> My tumblr is [here](stilesxeveryone.tumblr.com) and my inbox is always open! (the name is @stilesxeveryone if the link doesn't work!)


End file.
